


Testing the Waters

by Tseecka



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Kisses Meme, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 08:40:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2102841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tseecka/pseuds/Tseecka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair is searching for something; he doesn't know what it is, or where he'll find it, but Marian seems a good place to start.</p><p>---</p><p>For a Tumblr RP Kissing Meme, Prompt: "Gentle Kiss"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Testing the Waters

**Author's Note:**

> This iteration of Marian Hawke belongs to [wittymagehawke](http://wittymagehawke.tumblr.com).

He does his best not to think too much about it.  
  
He tries to remember that Anora is far away, too preoccupied with her own dalliances and attempts to get “his” heir to care much about what he does, on the far side of the Sea. She would likely encourage it, in fact, if it meant that she wouldn’t have to pretend to endure his kisses.  
  
He tries not to think about Lyna, dark-haired and wild and free with her kisses, lips dry and chapped from the wind and the sun and the exertion of a hard day’s travel.   
  
He tries not to think about the mabari sleeping in the corner, hoping that Bean doesn’t wake up, doesn’t judge him, because it doesn’t matter what anyone tells him—that dog is people, and capable of all the range of emotions any person is. Including betrayal and judgement.   
  
Instead, he focuses—tries to focus—on the curve of Marian’s cheek, on the way her short cropped hair brushes her temples and escapes its style to fall across her brow, on  her hand clasped in his and her gentle, patient eyes on his face. She has set aside her jokes and quips, and he is grateful, but still he is too self-aware. Too afraid of doing something wrong, of being teased mercilessly for a foible he can’t help; more afraid of doing something right, and what that might mean.   
  
He leans in, brushes his lips across hers in the faintest of kisses, and holds it for a second, two, three. They part, and there is a twin set of exhalations, and he feels…nothing. No stirring, no longing, nothing but relief that this is not what he needs. That he is still himself, despite everything; that faithfulness and fidelity hold true and remain in his heart, uncorrupted so far.   
  
"Am I a woman, or your doddering aunt?" Hawke quips at him, though her hand tightens briefly around his in sympathy and sorrow. He is lost, and searching, and she is not the one to show him the way. He shakes his head, and lifts her hand to his lips, instead, to kiss her knuckles.   
  
"A friend," he answers, and it’s true. 


End file.
